Our author wanted to make herself comfortable and spend a week telling fairy tales to everyone around her. But everyday life becomes more consistent fibbing really easier?
This is my last try. A flat share party in Neukölln, Coolio sings “Gangsta’s Paradise” from the boombox, I’m sitting at a table with ten strangers. I go through my text in my head, “Lexy, 25, policewoman”. That’s a complete lie. Actually, I’m Toni, 36, a journalist. But I wanted to pretend to be someone else today, play someone else for a night, just for fun. And to appear as a police officer in Berlin at a private party was just absurd enough for me.
At the moment, however, my fantasy job seems a lot more relaxed to me than what I’m doing here. Honestly, I’m dying a thousand deaths. I dread the moment when someone asks me, “So, what are you doing?” This was to be the culmination of a fun-filled week in which I allowed myself every white lie, fib, and exaggerationto make my life easier or more exciting. It’s been a damn tough week.
I should have realized that I was the completely wrong person for this “fiddling experiment”. When my mom caught me high when I was young, when she asked if I had done any drugs, I replied enthusiastically, “Yes! Hash cookies! We still have some!” and handed her all the baked goods. Just recently I waited a whopping 15 minutes at the bar in the club for the barmaid to turn to me again. Just to give her back ten euros that she gave me too much. And on social media, I’d be ashamed to death trying to make my home, career, or skin look better than it is.
lying undesirable?
I can’t even lie if desired. In the summer my family discovered a card game in which you have to cheat away your cards inconspicuously. I didn’t get rid of a single card. As soon as I started to “maneuver” I was sure everyone would stare at me. After all, it wasn’t just me. My six-year-old nephew spoke my heart out after two rounds, “But I don’t WANT to cheat!” I feel the same way about this experiment: At almost every meeting I spend an hour trying to fit some kind of lie somewherebefore I’m at the end of my nerves and confess to my counterpart what I was actually planning to do.
My friends already know that from me, in everyday life it doesn’t look any different. If you ask me how I’m doing on a bad day, you have to deal with the awkward silence that follows the answer: “Not good at all.” If I don’t like a gift, my reaction will definitely give it away. And anyone who asks my opinion must expect to hear something they don’t want to hear. Up until now I have considered this to be a particularly honorable trait of mine. After this week I see it differently. To paraphrase a calendar verse attributed to Voltaire: “Everything you say should be true. But not everything that is true you should say.”
Holding back my opinion was the week’s biggest challenge. If I develop an ulcer in a few months, I’ll attribute it to this experiment and lovingly christen it Barbara. However, you also learn a lot by nodding and listening. At a meeting with my sister, she tells me how annoyed she is at the fact that, as a mother of two and a full-time worker, Instagram now also has to push the topic of self-care. Before I can start to discuss, she says: “That doesn’t help me, it puts me under pressure, that’s just another to-do!” – “Exactly!” I agree sheepishly and quickly cancel the book “Radical Self-Care” that I wanted to give her for her birthday.
A penchant for truth
Similarly, an emergency meeting with a friend in the park. She tells me about the fight with her boyfriend, who I’m not a big fan of. Just before I begin another of my speeches about how she deserves something much better, I bite my tongue. Does that really help you now? Especially since I know she doesn’t want to give up on her relationship? Is my supposed tendency toward truth really a lack of empathy? Instead of lecturing them, this time I’ll shut up and let them share their pain. Because I know myself that sometimes we don’t want solutions, we just want someone to listen.
The experiment actually makes some things easier for me. I turn down a customer who pays badly and whose orders are never fun, saying I don’t have time. I let my mother, who has wanted me to invest my savings for ages, just let her do the talking instead of directly reassuring her. In a conversation with Grandma, I spontaneously offer the prospect of coming to visit soon, even though the time is likely to be tight. In the short term I made everyone happy with it. But what’s next? With this experiment ending for me next week, I’ll either have to keep stalling everyone – or invest in gold, renegotiate with the client, and scoop a weekend for Omi. Certainly the better options in the long run.
While the week went a little smoother for everyone, I’m not convinced of fibbing as an interpersonal lubricant. Most of the time we lie to avoid hurting people and to make things easier for ourselves. But that doesn’t work in the long run. We should ask ourselves more often when we are lying to support a system that doesn’t actually work. Why do I think I don’t have time for grandma? Can I do something about it? Why does my girlfriend keep crying because of her boyfriend? Can the two do something about it? Why don’t I want to accept the customer’s orders? Can he do anything about it? Not always, but often lies are oil in the gears where there should actually be sand. We need the crunch and the friction to see where things aren’t going well and where something needs to change.
That’s not worth discussing
While I’m busy with self-criticism and philosophical insights, my partner is having the week of his life. I’ve never been so “easy to care for”. Whether household, casual sayings, a degenerate evening with colleagues – my motto has recently been: “Oh, that’s not worth discussing!” Looking back, I have to admit that this is often true. What still upsets me in the morning has long since ceased to matter to me in the evening. I’m learning that not every emotion is worth arguing about, and a little less judgment is good for everyone.
Back in the shared kitchen. My friend who dragged me here is privy to my fib experiment. Now she bends over to me and asks conspiratorially: “Well, already lied?” Me, with the same face as my nephew at the cheat game: “Nah! I don’t WANT it! How is that supposed to work…?” Without hesitating for a second, she turns to a buddy and opens up: “I’m considering making a tantra studio out of my bar.” I’m impressed, also because there’s not even a question about their absurd alleged plan. I still can’t go along – I give in when the first person asks me my name. My fear of taking advantage of these lovely people and putting us all in a stupid situation is too great.
So instead of spending the night telling people fairy tales about myself, I give up and enjoy some real moments with them. After all, a white lie still gets around: I’m having a lively chat with a guest about the band Florence + The Machine until she suggests playing “You’ve Got the Love” for the whole party. Unfortunately the only song I don’t like at all, but I see the enthusiasm in their eyes and agree: “Good idea!”
Antonie Hanel During the experiment, he often considered simply making up the text. But she couldn’t